


Who Could Deny These Butterflies?

by xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, kinda sort of a Famous AU but also not really?, no beta-- we die like our favorite ghost band, the fake dating/tour au that nobody asked for but I'm serving up anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28934076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx/pseuds/xxPrettyLittleTimeBombxx
Summary: “I know this is going to sound kinda crazy…but, could you maybe pretend to be in love with me for a few minutes?”—When Julie Molina approaches Luke Patterson at a bar and asks him to pretend to be her boyfriend, she never expects to find herself in a position where she and Luke have to keep up the ruse for longer than five minutes. Figures that out of all of the strangers she could have approached that night, she’d gone and picked the one guy who just so happens to be in a rock band that’s on the brink of blowing up.
Relationships: Alex Mercer & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie Peters, Julie Molina & Luke Patterson, Julie Molina/Luke Patterson
Comments: 350
Kudos: 662





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Behold: the juke fake dating au/tour life au that nobody asked for but I'm giving to you anyway. 
> 
> Title is a line from "Remembering Sunday" by All Time Low, which doesn't really have anything to do with the fic? But part of it is very loosely inspired by the spirit of All Time Low's "Vegas," so it's all sort of connected anyway.

The floor near the bar is sticky beneath her shoes as Julie Molina shifts her weight from one foot to the other, fiddling with the thin straw floating in the coke she’d ordered from the barman in an effort to give her hands something to do while she waits.

It’s been so long since she’s stepped foot in music venue, she hardly knows what to do with herself. And even though she can’t spot the stage from where she’s standing at the back of the room, the fact that she knows it’s there still makes her feel a bit apprehensive. The idea of live music just hasn’t felt the same ever since her mom died.

But Julie’s here for Flynn and if there’s anyone she’d brave discomfort for, it’s her best friend.

“I didn’t realize it was a venue— you don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” the other girl had said when they’d first walked into the lounge on the outskirts of Silverlake.

“It’s fine,” Julie had assured her, forcing a grin onto her face. “It’s just for a bit right? Until you meet that blind date of yours and you’re sure you don’t need to make a quick getaway?”

“Yeah, but Jules—“

“I promise it’s fine,” Julie had said, cutting Flynn off and shooting the girl a warm smile. “I’ll be right here—just in case you need me to rescue you.”

Flynn had left her right where Julie said she’d be waiting at the corner of the bar-- but not before pulling her into a fierce hugand proclaimed her to be the best friend ever. Flynn’s date had shown up shortly after, and then, there had been nothing left for Julie to do but wait.

She chances another glance at Flynn just in time to spot her friend tug on one of the large hoop earrings she’d donned for the night. It’s the signal thatshe’s been waiting for— a subtle sign from her bestie to let Julie know things were going well and that she was free to leave.

Heaving a sigh of relief over surviving her discomfort, Julie drops a few bills on the bar before she unsticks her boots from the sticky floor. She weaves her way between the bodies that are already crowding the cramped space before slipping through the same door she’s pretty sure she’d come in from when she had Flynn had first arrived.

It’s a bit of a shock to discover that the door in question isn’t an exit at all, but an entrance that leads into the back half of the lounge. The smaller room is packed to the brim with bodies, and the atmosphere within is so electric, it leaves Julie feeling a bit disoriented as a large group files in behind her. She allows herself to be pushed further into the room, figuring it makes more sense to swim with the current of bodies funneling in behind her until there’s enough space for her to turn around and head back out. It’s not until she moves further into the space that Julie catches sight of the last two people she’d ever want to run into. Her stomach drops when her eyes land on Nick— her ex-boyfriend (for lack of a better word)— and his new girlfriend Carrie Wilson, who’s shamelessly draped over him in a way that makes Julie feel queasy.

She’d wanted Nick for as long as she could remember growing up, but just when it seemed as if things were starting to get good between them, her mom had gotten sick and the news had turned Juile’s world upside down. After that, silly school girl crushes and romance just didn’t seem as important as they had before she’d been forced to come to terms with the fact that her mom’s days were numbered. And Julie hadn’t ever been naive enough to think that Nick would wait for her— especially not when she couldn’t give him a straight answer as to when she might be ready to get back to whatever it was they had together. She also hadn’t been foolish enough to believe he wouldn’t ever move on after she’d taken herself out of the running for his affections. But the fact that he’d chosen to move on with _Carrie_ — the one person who never missed an opportunity to tear Julie down? She’d never say as much to anyone other than Flynn, but the news that Carrie and Nick had rekindled their high school romance after running into each other one day on the university campus they all shared stung more than she cared to admit.

Julie whirls around quickly at the sight of the picture perfect couple, but not fast enough for Carrie to miss spying her from across the room as though she’s a shark who’s caught the scent of blood in the water. She spares another glance over her shoulder through her wild, curly hair, and catches a flash of the blonde girls’ teeth as her lips pull back into a cold smile.

 _“Busted,”_ Julie thinks to herself as her heart kick into overdrive.

There are too many bodies in the room— too many people blocking the way to the only exit— but Julie’s not about to make Carrie’s pursuit of her any easier. She picks her way through the crowd, squeezing between bodies as swiftly as she can, hoping to put as many people between herself and Carrie and Nick as possible. She might not make it to the door in time, but Juile hopes that buying herself a bit more time will give her a chance to prepare for the inevitable interaction that seems to be mere moments away from occurring.

As she moves, Julie finds herself thinking about how she wishes she weren’t alone. She wishes for Flynn. Wishes that she’ll look over to the bar and miraculously spot her best friend sitting at one of the stools waiting for her, ready to back her up, and ready with a clever comeback to combat whatever it is Carrie will throw at her this time. She knows Flynn won’t be at the bar, but it doesn’t stop Julie from desperately sweeping her gaze over the countertop for any sight of her friend anyway.

And just as Juile finds herself wishing for the sight of a friendly face— _any_ friendly face— she might be able to cling to for a little bit of moral support, she sees them: two guys who seem to be around her age. One in an orange beanie and a shirt he’s clearly cut the sleeves off of himself, and another with dark, slicked back hair who’s sporting a well-worn black leather jacket despite the toasty temperature inside the venue. It’s the familiarity with which they interact with one another that first draws her eyes toward them. There’s something about their energy that just reminds her so much of the way that she and Flynn operate when they’re together, and it’s that similarity that she clings to as her feet carry her forward toward the two strangers in question.

Her first thought is to approach the guy in the leather jacket, who hasn’t stopped smiling since she’d spotted them. He seemed friendly enough— kind, even— from what Julie can gather just by looking at him.But her plans are derailed almost instantly when she sees the boy in question clap his friend on the shoulder before disappearing into the crowd with an energetic spring in his step. And then there’s just the sleeveless boy in the orange beanie whose looking a bit glum as he spins a spare coaster on its edge between his fingers. She sends a silent prayer up to whoever might be listening as her feet keep moving forward. She hopes, against all odds, that the stranger’s feeing generous (or at least, chivalrous enough to help her out of a jam for a few minutes.)

“Hey,” she says as she sidles up to the bar next to him. He straightens, replacing the frown on his face with a small smile that puts her a bit more at ease. “Sorry to bother you, I’m—“

She hears Carrie calling out her name from somewhere behind her and the sound of her sickly sweet voice sends a pang of dread through her. It also makes Juile realize that the time for niceties is over. She flings her arms around the stranger’s neck before she loses her nerve, and the boy pressed against her stiffens for only a moment before one of his own arms comes up and loops around her waist.

“Whoah,” he utters in surprise right near her ear. The warm, breathy chuckle that follows sends an involuntary tingle down her spine. “Have we met before?”

“No, sorry,” Julie says, pulling back as she flashes him the brightest smile she can muster.

It’s the first time she’s really gotten a good look at his face, and it causes the request that’s moments away from spilling out of her mouth to get lodged in her throat. He’s sort of beautiful up close in a way she hadn’t been expecting. His eyes, which she’d assumed were brown from far away, glimmer and shift in color in the lowlight of the bar, but it’s his smile that really throws her for a loop. It’s perfect in a way that seems almost unfair,and it momentarily makes her forget why she’d thrown herself at him to begin with. But then she remembers Carrie and Nick, and it’s like she’s just been doused with a bucket of ice water. It’s enough for Julie to get a grip on her thoughts, and get on with the reason why she’d thrown herself at him to begin with.

“I know this is going to sound kinda crazy-- _I promise I’m not crazy!_ —“

“Well, we’re all _a little_ crazy,” he quips.

Juile ignores his interjection and barrels on. “But, could you maybe pretend to be in love with me for a few minutes?” 

The stranger blinks at her as though still trying to process the words that have just rushed out of her mouth.

“Um…what?” he asks through a nervous laugh.

“Look, I know we don’t know each other, but I really just need some help? So can you please just pretend to be my boyfriend? Because my _ex-_ boyfriend is here with his _new_ girlfriend, who also happens to be my arch nemesis, and I really just need someone to be my human shield for like, _two seconds_ , so…will you do it?” Julie asks quickly, wondering if he can hear the desperation lingering along the edges of her voice.

He stares at her in equal parts amusement and confusion. It’s a combination that Julie might have otherwise found incredibly endearing in any other situation. Right now though, when time is of the essence, it just makes her feel all the more anxious as she waits to see if the stranger before her will put her out of her misery. He hasn’t made any sort of move to push Julie away— to shrug her hand off of his shoulder, or to remove the arm he’s still got looped around her waist; she hopes desperately that the fact that he hasn’t done either is a good sign.

Julie finds herself holding her breath as he opens his mouth as though ready to give her an answer, but the bartender returns at the same exact moment, pulling his captivating eyes with their many colors away from Julie’s own, drawing them instead down to where he’s set a red solo cup down directly in front of the stranger before her.

She chances a quick glance behind her and locks eyes with Carrie, who grins at her like the cat who’s just caught the canary as she continues to work her way through the crowd with Nick in tow.

“I’ll pay for your tab!” Julie blurts out in a moment of desperation, squeezing the stranger’s arm in an effort to get his attention. She knows it works when his eyes snap back up and lock with hers.

“Look, I— you—whatever your name is,“ the boy starts. “You’re very cute, and I’m very flattered? Can’t say I’ve ever had anyone ask me to be their fake boyfriend before, but it’s not really a good time for me _so_ …”

He gives Julie an awkward pat on the arm as he stands from the barstool he’d been occupying.

“But I hope you enjoy the show!” He says the last bit as an afterthought, offering her one last parting grin before disappearing into the crowd just as his friend had done moments before.

She hardly has time to harp on how quickly she’d been dismissed before she hears Carrie’s sickly sweet voice calling her name from behind. And Julie grits her teeth, taking one final deep breath before turning to face the last two people she’d wanted to see.

Carrie, as always, is immaculately dressed in a coordinating pink ensemble that Julie (begrudgingly) thinks becomes her. And Julie hates herself for feeling more than a little self-conscious about the way she’s dressed in comparison. She hadn’t thought much about what she’d had on when when she’d accompanied Flynn here tonight, and changing out of the cardigan and the purple, butterfly printed sun dress she’d worn all day to school hadn’t even crossed her mind. She hand’t ever expected to stay out long enough for it to matter. She’d also never expected to run into anyone she actually knew.

“Julie! I told Nick I thought I’d spotted you here, didn’t I babe?” Carrie says in a high pitched tone.

“Hey, Julie,” Nick says slowly, offering her a warm smile from Carrie’s side.

“I’m surprised we ran into you,” Carrie continues. “Aren’t you usually holed up at the library for the most part?”

“Not as surprised as I am to see you,” Julie replies, adopting a sarcastically cheerful voice. “I thought for sure you’d turn into a pumpkin if you ventured anywhere east of the 101.”

Julie grins triumphantly when she sees the smile on Carrie’s face falter.

“Well, Nick wanted to check out the band playing here tonight, and how could I _possibly_ say no to this face?” Carrie asks, cupping his chin with a perfectly manicured hand before planting a lingering kiss onto his mouth.

Julie averts her eyes, suddenly becoming incredibly interested in the wood grain on the well-worn floor beneath her feet, glancing back up only when she hears Nick awkwardly clear his throat.

“So…did you come here with Flynn?” he asks in an effort to make conversation.

“No, actually I’m here with my boyfriend,” the words leave Julie’s lips before she can even think to stop them.

“Your boyfriend,” Carrie repeats flatly.

“Yeah!” Julie exclaims.

The sound of her voice coming out high-pitched and strained is enough to instantly make her regret her decision to lie in the first place. But Carrie’s presence, and the way she’s hanging onto Nick as though he’s her newest designer bag, had clearly been enough to make her forget a huge flaw in her plan. And the flaw is simply that Julie’s never been terribly great at lying to begin with. There’s no turning back now though, so Julie does the only thing she can do and presses on.

“You um…you both just missed him actually— _my boyfriend_ — he was just here. At the bar. With me,” she says, gesturing to the vacant barstool that had previously been occupied by the boyshe’d hoped would have been her unexpected white knight. “Maybe you two saw him while you were coming up to say hello…?”

Nick’s brows pull into a frown and the grin plastered across Carrie’s face grows impossibly wider.

“The guy who was just at the bar is your boyfriend?” Carrie repeats.

“Uh huh,” Julie nods. “It’s pretty new, but we’re pretty crazy about each other.”

“Let me get this straight,” Carrie says cutting her off. “The guy at the bar— the one who’s on stage right now— you actually expect us to believe that _that’s_ your boyfriend?”

It takes a minute for Juile to process what Carrie’s just said, but her eyes are faster than her brain, and they’re quick to shoot over in the direction Carrie’s pointing to. Her stomach sinks when she looks up at the stage only to find the same stranger she’d flung her arms around— the one in the orange hat, and the cutoff shirt, and the perfect smile— speaking into the mic as he fiddles with the electric guitar strapped to his front.

In her panic, Julie can’t quite wrap her head around what he’s saying when he addresses the crowd, but she doesn’t miss the sound of Carrie’s voice in her ear.She sounds triumphant as she speaks, loud enough for Julie to hear above the roar of the crowd. “Next time you try and make up a fake boyfriend, maybe try picking someone that’s a bit more attainable, Molina.”

Julie has every intention of turning around— of facing Carrie and Nick and hoping she can figure out a way to play all of this off on the fly. But then the stranger on stage is staring directly at her and it’s impossible for her to look away. Even from a distance, she finds herself captivated and frozen by eyes, the color of which she can’t quite describe.

“We’re going to play a new song for you tonight if that’s alright,” he says from up on the stage, his gaze never leaving hers. “This one’s for my girl. She’s the one in the pretty purple dress over at the bar— and I really hope she likes it.”

And Julie has just enough time to hear the disbelieve in Carrie’s voice when she blurts out a well timed, “ _What the hell?_ ” before the band on stage comes alive and drowns out the rest of the noise in the room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all are amazing and I am overwhelmed by the response to chapter 1— here’s chapter 2! More thoughts from me on the other side!

Luke can’t remember the last time he’d been so nervous to play a show. In fact, it’s been so long that he doesn’t even know what to do with himself, or, more importantly, how to quell the nerves currently taking up permanent residence in his gut.

It’s not even that Sunset Curve has never found themselves in the position of feeling as though they’re about to play a gig that could make or break their career. There was a time before the record deal, when it felt like every show they played could make or break them. Back then, a younger Luke might have welcomed the nerves— might have embraced them and used them as fuel for the fire. Used them as a means with which to remind himself about why he started and what was at stake. But it’s different now. It’s different tonight. And maybe it’s simply because proving yourself when you’ve got nothing to lose is always easier than proving yourself when you’ve got _everything_ to lose.

It feels very much like they’ve got everything to lose tonight on their first show without Bobby. Bobby, their fourth brother turned traitor. Bobby, who’d been in the band since they’d been nothing but four gangly teens making basement noise at Reggie’s parent’s house. Bobby, who’d up and left Sunset Curve weeks ago to fly solo, feeding the three of them some bullshit excuse about how he was tired of feeling under appreciated and under utilized. Bobby, who’d turned to Luke, just before he’d walked out of their lives for good— who’d looked Luke directly in the eye and said he was far too good, and far too talented to keep on living in Luke’s shadow. Bobby, who’d told Luke that they’d never reach legendary status at a band relying on Luke’s lyrics alone. Who’d said all of this and yet, had still clearly felt as though Luke’s songs were good enough to steal and pass off as his own.

“Stop it,” Reggie says, interrupting Luke’s thoughts.

“Stop what?” Luke asks lightly.

“Stop thinking about it— stop thinking about _him_ , stop thinking about the label, stop thinking about all of it. You look like you’re seconds away from blowing chunks.”

Reggie’s always been too perceptive— too empathetic for his own good. It’s one of the things Luke loves most about him. But it also means that the bassist has a knack for calling him out on his sulking, and pinpointing exactly what it is that’s bothering him. It’s a skill Luke’s grateful for when he’s ready to get over his worries, but not so much when all he wants to do is wallow for a bit before he shakes off whatever it is that’s bothering him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Luke says innocently, picking up the coaster in front of him and fiddling with the soggy piece of cardboard.

“Dude, come on,” Reggie says, bumping his shoulder with his own. “I _know you_.”

Luke side-eyes his friend only to be met with a knowing lopsided grin. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“I know,” Reggie laughs. “It’s just any other show, man. And contrary to what the label keeps telling us, _we don’t need him_. You, and Alex, and I? We’re all we’re ever going to need. And we’re going to _rock_ this crowd— give ‘em a show they won’t forget— just like we always do, right?”

“Aren’t pep talks supposed to be my thing?” Luke asks ruefully.

“ _Right?_ ” Reggie repeats, ignoring Luke’s attempt at deflection and bringing the conversation back to his impromptu motivational speech. When Luke doesn’t answer right away, Reggie gives his ribs an insistent nudge with one leather-clad elbow until the guitarist’s face splits into a genuine, but involuntary grin.

“ _Yes! Okay!_ _Fine,_ you’re right— I said it. _There_. Are you happy, you dork?” Luke concedes.

“I _do_ love it when I’m right,” Reggie smirks back. “Want me to wait with you until the bartender gets back?”

“Nah— go tune your bass” Luke says. “I’ll be up there with you two in a sec.”

The bassist might have left him to sulk in silence, but Luke’s not alone for long. It’s still something all three of them are adjusting to— getting noticed by fans. Though he supposes he should have expected it since he’d made the conscious decision to mill about out in the open before the set.

Luke’s not up for entertaining guests at the moment, but he schools a polite smile onto his face when a soft, melodic voice cuts through the noise of the space and reaches his ears.

He straightens, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly when he takes in the sight of the girl who’d just come up to him. She stands out amongst the crowd of Silver Lake hipsters in her pretty purple dress with butterflies printed on the soft fabric. She sticks out so much that Luke might have thought she’d wandered in by mistake and simply approached him to ask for directions. He _might_ have, were it not for the determined look in the warm brown eyes that are staring fearlessly into his own.

She starts to speak, that same melodic voice washing over him, but then she cuts herself off and flings her arms around him instead.

The stranger hits him with a bit more force than Luke had been expecting, but he catches her easily with a strong arm that steadies her around the waist.

“Whoah,” he utters through a surprised chuckle. The wild curls that frame her face tickle his nose, surrounding him in an intoxicatingly sweet scent of rose and vanilla that make his next words come out a bit more dazed than he’d intended them to. “Have we met before?”

Luke knows they’ve never met (he would have remembered somebody like her if they had) but he can’t help but ask her anyway. Perhaps, if only so he can hear the beautiful stranger in his arms speak again.

She confirms what he already knows to be true when she pulls back and flashes him a bright smile that makes his insides feel all warm and fuzzy. He expects the response, but not what comes after when she launches into a rushed speech, words tumbling from between her lips at a record speed. And Luke knows that his mind must be playing tricks on him— that perhaps the added stress of the night has addled his brain— because there’s no way that this girl has just asked him what he _thinks_ she’s just asked him.

But when he asks her to clarify through a nervous laugh and she once again asks if he wouldn’t mind pretending to be her boyfriend for a minute, Luke realizes that he’s _not,_ in fact, hallucinating.

“Look, I— you—whatever your name is,“ Luke starts. “You’re very cute, and I’m very flattered? Can’t say I’ve ever had anyone ask me to be their fake boyfriend before, but it’s not really a good time for me so…”

And it’s _really not_ a great time for him. Between Bobby taking off to start his own solo career with the songs he stole, and the label being on their backs about how Sunset Curve is going to bounce back with half of the material they’d banked for their first major release there one minute and gone the next? And then there’s the matter of the press in attendance at tonight’s secret showcase. The reporters who are meant to be there to give the band some nice press to assure fans that they’re carrying on just fine without their rhythm guitarist. The same reporters who won’t hesitate to print the truth if they think that the band’s performance tonight is sorely lacking. Not to mention the fact that all of this is meant to drum up a bit more excitement for the band before Sunset Curve takes off on an impromptu tour— their first tour as a trio, and not a quartet. The tour that was billed as a surprise that was always planned. The tour that’s been secretly cobbled together by the label as a publicity stunt. The one that’s meant to show (and not explicitly tell) everyone that Sunset Curve doesn’t need Bobby Wilson to be successful.

So when Luke tells the girl who’s currently got her arm curled around his bicep that it’s really not a good time, he’s very much telling the truth, while simultaneously sparing the stranger of all of the gory details she really doesn’t need to be privy to. But the thing that really sort of throws him off a bit as he stares back at her, is the way that he can’t shake the feeling that if he’d had the time. If he _could_ stay at the bar and spill his guts to the stranger standing before him. If he let it all tumble out, that she’d do a good job of listening. _Really_ listening to him— the stranger she’lllikely never see again. And that’s exactly why Luke knows that he’s got to walk away right now. Because the last thing he needs is another distraction— he can’t make exceptions. Not even for one as beautiful as the one that’s still staring hopefully (but not expectantly) up at him.

Because that’s exactly what this girl is. The one whose name he doesn’t know. The one who’s currently staring at him through eyes that look as though they could pierce right through his soul. She’s a beautiful distraction— and one that Luke has a feeling would be far too easy to get tangled up in.

He makes a quick, awkward exit before he can think too hard on it. Before he has too much time to dwell on the thoughts he doesn’t have time to entertain. Thoughts about how he wants to ask her more about what it is that brought her here to begin with. Thoughts about how he’s curious as to whether she’d come here to see him and the band perform. Thoughts about how his chest feels full of a strange sort of impressed admiration over the idea that she’d been confident enough to stroll up and ask him to be her boyfriend for a couple of minutes. Thoughts about how it’s been a long time since he’s found himself genuinely intrigued by a girl he’s only just met because everything else takes a backseat to the band, and the music they create. About how he can’t shake this feeling that even if the stranger at the bar— his beautiful distraction— hadn’t approached him first, she _looks_ like someone he’d have picked out of the crowd on his own. Looks like someone that would have intrigued him. Looks like someone he’d want to _know better_ for some reason he can’t quite put his finger on.

But Luke pushesall of that out of his head in much the same way he pushes through the crowd in an effort to get to the stage where Alex and Reggie are already waiting for him. Because he doesn’t have time. Because, as he keeps telling everyone who asks, there’s only room for one lady in his life— and that’s music.

He keeps a firm grip on his cup from the bar, tucks it close to his chest as he weaves his way through the crowd and up toward the stage. In a lot of ways, Sunset Curve has long outgrown the venue they’d picked for their showcase tonight. But there’s something about coming back to play in this space, with its sticky floors, and it’s cheap beer, and it’s tiny, low stage, that reminds him of how far they’ve come in such a short amount of time.

Luke clings to the nostalgia as he hops up onto the stage, trying not to dwell too much on the empty space to his left where Bobby _should_ be standing. Focuses instead on the comforting presence of Alex sitting behind the drum kit at his back, and Reggie tuning his bass to his right. The buzz of the crowd at his feet sends the first shot of adrenaline coursing through his veins and suddenly, Luke’s got his game face on, thoroughly prepared to give their waiting audience a show he hopes they’ll be talking about until the sun comes up.

The crowd comes alive as soon as he speaks into the mic, and Luke’s pretty sure there’s nothing in this world that’ll ever make him feel as alive as he does when he’s gearing up to play for an eager audience. But halfway through a bout of banter with Reggie, he makes the mistake of sweeping his eyes across the room for dramatic effect.

He doesn’t mean for it to happen, but his eyes flit of their own accord toward the bar off to the side. Before he knows it, they’re locking with those belonging to the beautiful stranger he’d left behind.

The lights have dimmed somewhat but he can still make out the stark contrast of her purple dress against the warm expanse of her skin. Her eyes are just as captivating as ever, but it’s the way she’s holding herself that grips him the most. She’s stiff, and rigid, and staring at him as though she’s just seen a ghost. And then, a blonde girl standing to one side of her is leaning down and whispering something in her ear, causing the girl in the purple dress to visibly wilt.

The sight of her folding in on herself, bothers Luke more than it should. His visceral reaction to the way she crosses her arms over her front and tries to make herself as small as possible, as though hoping she’ll disappear altogether, makes his breath catch in his throat. And Luke doesn’t even know her name. Doesn’t know anything about her other than the sound of her voice, and the way the weight of her soft hand feels against his arm. But it _still_ doesn’t sit right with him. The fact that she’s been made to feel so small.

The hand he’s got on the microphone in front of him slips down, curling tight and with purpose around the base of the stand. He tilts it toward himself, adjusting the microphone until he can almost feel the cool steel of the grille brushing against his lips. And then, a string of words are tumbling out of his mouth before he’s even really got time to process what it is he’s saying.

“We’re going to play a new song for you tonight if that’s alright,” he says, his gaze never leaving hers. “This one’s for my girl. She’s the one in the pretty purple dress over at the bar— and I really hope she likes it.”

Distantly, Luke wonders if he should have maybe taken a beat to weigh out the pros and cons about what he’s just done on impulse, but then he catches sight of the way his beautiful distraction’s shoulders visibly fall slack as a direct result of what he’s just said. It’s as if the tension that visibly leaves her body gives him purchase to relax his own. Sliding his eyes away from hers is much easier now knowing that she doesn’t look so defeated. Satisfied, Luke bites his lip on a grin, fingers dancing across the steel strings of his electric guitar.

None of the three copies of the playlist that are tapped to various parts of the stage for them to reference tonight feature the chord progression he eases into. He glances back at Alex first. The drummer looks a little apprehensive, but he nods anyway, acknowledging the switch-up in the set list. When he glances at Reggie, the bassist simply quirks a singular brow up at him before he slides into the proper baseline. Luke jumps in with an opening guitar riff that he’s been practicing for weeks, but that he knows the audience before him is unfamiliar with. And then, like magic, the crowd at his feet comes alive again, effectively washing out any and all other thoughts or distractions that may or may not have been plaguing his mind before they’d started their set.

—

Julie’s too stunned to move, let alone speak when Carrie tries to get her attention.

She’s never had an out of body experience before, but she’s beginning to wonder if maybe that’s what’s happening to her right now. It’s the roar of the crowd at the end of a song she’s never heard before that finally snaps her back into reality. For just a moment, Julie’s almost convinced herself that she’d made it all up. That she’d just wanted somebody— anybody— to get her out of this awkward situation with Carrie and Nick so badly, that she’d simply imagined the part where the stranger she’d approached at the bar had singled her out from up on stage. But then Carrie’s giving her this look that tells Julie that despite the way Flynn’s always on her about living in her own little world, there’s no way in hell she’d merely _imagined_ what had just happened.

It suddenly feels unbearably hot in the room— too hot. She doesn’t bother with niceties as she pushes past Carrie and Nick while the band up on stage eases into a song that’s much more up tempo than the one they’d started with. She makes a beeline for a sign that points her to a smoking patio out back, bursting through the door, ignoring the handful of onlookers who shoot her a curious glance when she stumbles slightly as her shoes dig into to the gravel beneath her feet.

The cool night air against her cheeks and in her lungs feels like a soothing balm as she focuses on taking deep and even breaths, leaning her head back against the wall of the venue. Her solitude is quickly disrupted by Carrie, who saunters out to the patio a few moments later, Nick trailing along behind as he follows his girlfriend over to where Julie’s standing.

He’s staring at her through wide, blue eyes tinged in confusion. Julie’s well aware that his mouth is moving, but her brain doesn’t quite catch whatever it is he’s just asked. She’s outside, but her mind int still very much back at the bar, staring up at the boy with the guitar up on stage.

“Sorry, Nick, I didn’t catch that,” she apologizes.

“He said he thought you said things were pretty new between you and your rockstar boyfriend,” Carrie’s rying to maintain an air of aloofness, but Julie doesn’t miss the way her tone comes out stiff, as though irritated over the very thought of being even mildly curious about Julie’s (nonexistent) love life.“How long have you two been dating anyway?"

Carrie asks her question through a shrewd look, her icy brown eyes once again making Julie hyperaware of the fact that she’s a terrible liar. She sucks in another bout of cool night air and hopes that the noise in the patio is loud enough to drown out any shakiness in her own voice.

“Oh, just a couple of weeks— we aren’t super serious or anything,” she answers.

“Are you sure _he_ knows it’s nothing super serious?” Nick asks.

“Of course!” she squeaks out.

“Julie, the guy wrote a whole song about you— that doesn’t really scream casual,” Nick says wryly.

“Oh, that?” Julie says, waving Nick’s words off. “That song’s not about me— he probably just thought it’d be cute to give me a shout out or something.”

“‘ _Wicked beauty, won’t you sing for me?_ ’”

For a minute, Julie thinks it’s Nick who’s calling her a wicked beauty, but then she realizes the boy in front of her is actually quoting back whatever song it was her fake boyfriend had decided to dedicate to her.

 _Were those really the lyrics?_ To be honest, Julie had been so stunned in the moment, she hadn’t been in the right mind frame to really digest the lyrics the guy in the band had been singing.

“I didn’t know you were singing again— when did you get back into music?” Nick continues when she doesn’t say anything.

“I…uh…” Julie starts.

She’s spared from having to answer when a third voice enters the fold.

“So, _you’re_ ‘Wicked Beauty’?” Asks a woman Julie’s never seen before without preamble.

“Huh?”

“Sorry!” Says the woman, sticking her hand out for Julie to take. She pumps it a vigorous handshake that means business as she continues. “Cindy Gordon with Pitchfork— you know, the music site? I’m here covering the Sunset Curve showcase and I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation you were having with your friend here,” she gestures over to Nick, who looks just as befuddled as Julie feels. “My ears just perked up the moment he started talking about the lyrics to the new song the band just debuted tonight. Were you the inspiration behind Sunset Curve’s new song, then?”

“I—“ Julie starts.

“I should have known you’d have already tracked her down, Gordon,” says a man, who ruefully shakes his head in the direction of the Pitchfork writer. “Jim Redding with Stereogum.”

The handshake he offers Julie in greeting isn’t as aggressive, but as soon as he speaks again, Julie realizes the gentler approach is really just a means to lure her into a false sense of security.

“I heard your friend say you’re also a musician— what do you play?”

“Oh…I don’t really…”

“Is that how you met the band?” Stereogum guy continues. “Are you Luke’s new writing partner, or more of just a silent muse?”

“Luke?” Julie asks faintly.

She does’t know how to answer any of their questions— she can barely even compute what it is they’re asking of her, their expectant faces fueling a panic deep in her belly that’s causing Julie to feel more than a little bit overwhelmed. Maybe this is karma’s way of getting back at her. Of teaching her a hard lesson. Of pointing out the fact that lying for personal gain won’t do you any favors in the long run. Maybe—

“ _OKAY!_ I think that’s enough questioning for today— you’d think the poor girl was on trial or something.”

Julie looks up, shooting the third stranger who’s come up to them a dubious look. He doesn’t look nearly as terrifying as the other two journalists with his long brown hair and his twinkling brown eyes. Even so, Julie can’t help but brace for the worst because nothing about tonight has gone the way she’d expected it to go in the first place. She wasn’t even supposed to _be here_. She was supposed to be at home, and in bed by now. Perhaps winding down for bed by calling her dad to check in on him, and Carlos, and ask about how things are going on their end.

She startles as the long haired boy sidles up to her, dipping his head so he can whisper in her ear. “You don’t have to give either of these vultures the answers they don't deserve.”

He shoots her a warm smile when Julie turns to meet his eyes, as though hoping it’ll put her at ease.

“Ready to go?” He asks. His twinkly brown eyes never leave hers, but he poses the question loud enough so that Carrie, and Nick, and Pitchfork lady and Stereogum guy don’t miss it.

He holds an arm out in invitation when she says nothing, his wide, toothy grin never sliding from his face. And Julie stares at his proffered arm, contemplating over whether or not it’s smart to take it and let this guy (who’s name she doesn’t know) whisk her away to wherever it is he’s planning to take her.

The rational part of her brain is telling her she should be asking more questions. But the other part— the part that wins out in the end— is screaming at her to take his arm because she’s stuck between a rock in a hard place. It’s the lesser of two evils, she decides, to take this guy’s arm now, rationalizing it by convincing herself that there’s only one exit out, and she can always lose him in the crowd once they get inside.

Impossibly, the grin on his face grows wider when she slips her arms through his, and there’s something endearing about the way that it coaxes a series of deep crinkles out near the edges of his eyes. He doesn’t say anything else, but he’s quick to whisk her away, leading her back into the venue where the band’s still playing their set. She doesn’t dare glance up at the stage— not even when everything about the sound of the raspy tenor voice that’s currently singing all but invitingly begs her to. Focusing on the crowd instead is no better— especially not when her guide weaves them through a group of curious onlookers, all of whom avert their gaze from the show momentarily to glance at her with intrigue.

Her nameless guide tugs her with a firm, but gentle grip around the bar, stopping short of a black curtain Julie hadn’t noticed before. It’s being blocked by a surly looking security guard who’s twice the size of either of them. He looks more than a little intimidating, but the guard’s face softens ever so slightly once her guide flashes him a badge clipped to a chain on his hip. The guard steps aside and pulls the curtain back, gesturing for the both of them to go on through.

Julie waits until the curtain swings shut behind them, effectively drowning out the barest hint of the noise from the concert beyond it. It’s only then that she stops in her tracks and tugs back on the arm her hand’s still looped into.

“Now that we’re alone,” she starts when her nameless guide turns to glance back at her. “Would you mind telling me who you are, and where it is you’re taking me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, I know I said this up at the top but it begs repeating: I am legitimately SO FLOORED by the response and enthusiasm y’all showed the first chapter of this fic that I really thought would sort of fly under the radar for a minute until I’d had a chance to come back and write more.
> 
> Thank you so much for loving my little long-term juke project as much as I do— it excites me to no end to know that so many of you are just as excited for this story as I am.
> 
> Hope y’all enjoyed chapter 2, and that it answered some of the questions you might have had coming off of the first chapter. I never really intended for any of this story to be outside of Julie's POV, but I felt like it was important this time around to give everyone an insight into where we're picking up with Luke when things first start out.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought in the comments— and thank you in advance to any of you who leave those and or kudos. It really means a lot and is such a huge motivator!
> 
> In between updates, you can find me over on [Tumblr](https://xxprettylittletimebombxx.tumblr.com/) and/or on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElaWithAnE) if you wanna come say hi!
> 
> Speaking of Tumblr, I have a pinned post to the top of mine featuring some absolutely stunning art for this fic by my dear friend Jenni (aka lovelyrugbee_art) who drew the moment Luke calls Julie out from the stage! 
> 
> Jenni's talent knows no bounds and I'm constantly in awe of her artistry! Check her out and give her all of the love over on [Tumblr](mamirugbee.tumblr.com) and/or [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/lovelyrugbee_art/)! 
> 
> See y’all when I see you for chapter 3!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can guarantee y'all that NOBODY is happier than me about the fact that Julie's finally gonna learn some names this chapter! Also, I'm a sucker for peppering in little nods to the show into fics so have fun spotting those!-- more thoughts from me at the end of chapter 3!

_Julie waits until the curtain swings shut behind them, effectively drowning out the barest hint of the noise from the concert beyond it. It’s only then that she stops in her tracks and tugs back on the arm her hand’s still looped into._

_“Now that we’re alone,” she starts when her nameless guide turns to glance back at her. “Would you mind telling me who you are, and where it is you’re taking me?”_

“Not that I don’t appreciate your help— I really do,” Julie rambles on. “But it’s just that…well...” she flounders.

“Oh! Sorry!” he jumps in, grinning bashfully. “I was out toward the back of the patio making friends with the stage crew when I saw you getting the third degree. I couldn’t stand by and let a friend get eaten alive by the press.”

Julie wracks her brain at his nonchalant use of the word "friend," her eyes searching his face as though hoping if she looks at it long enough, it’ll jog her memory. He looks to be about her age— maybe not more than a year or two older than herself at the very most. She wonders if maybe they had a class together at the university and she just hasn't been able to place him. It turns out she doesn't need to ask him if they go to the same school because he introduces himself instead.

“I’m Willie. Sunset Curve’s unofficial roadie slash,” he holds an arm out at a diagonal angle to emphasize the last word. “Sometimes unofficial bus driver.”

Julie has no idea who Sunset Swerve even is, but that doesn't stop her from giggling slightly over the odd way Willie has chosen to introduce himself and his role in what she assumes is one of the many bands billed to play there that night.

“And officially?” she presses playfully.

“ _Officially…_ I’m dating the drummer,” he laughs. “But, you know, helping out with the band stuff means I have an excuse to go out on the road with them here and there, so it’s sort of a win-win.”

It’s impossible for Julie not to join in on his laughter. She’s barely known Willie for five minutes, but there’s no denying his warm, easy-going nature is contagious. Julie’s got no point of reference for who the band’s drummer is, but she wonders if perhaps her new friend's infectious energy is what drew them together in the first place.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Willie— _officially_ ,” she says, pulling her arm out of the crook of his own so she can shake his hand properly. He takes it with a playful grin in his right. “I’m Julie— Julie Molina.”

“Well, Julie Molina— it’s nice to meet you, too,” he replies. “Us friends of the band, we gotta stick together, right?”

Julie’s not sure if she can really call herself a “friend of the band” if she's never even heard of the band in question, but something tells her not to linger on technicalities. Besides, maybe being friends with Willie is enough. She reasons that it seems to be enough for him, anyway, or he wouldn’t have tossed the term out there.

“The guys are almost done— they’re just doing a short set tonight— kinda like a little appetizer before they hit the road. But I thought I could keep you company backstage in the greenroom until it’s over? We have snacks. It’s not a bad place to hide out while you wait for the crowd to die down and the vultures to fly home.”

This time when Willie offers up his arm again, Julie loops hers through his with full confidence. He leads them down a hallway plastered in posters, occasionally pointing to ones from shows he'd been to himself, peppering in little annecdotes about who sounded better live or who sounded better on the album, which artists were total divas, and who was nice to the stage crew.

She's a little more excited than she should be when they finally get to the greenroom and she discovers that there are, in fact, snacks just as Willie had promised her. Her stomach rumbles as she eyes a plate of brownies on her way over to the only available sitting area in the room-- a worn, leather couch pressed up against the far side of the room. Willie must have caught her staring longingly at the chocolatey squares, because he swiftly picks the plate up on his way over to the couch and sets them down on a low coffee table right in front of the spot where she plops down.

"Brownies are just about the only thing Reggie can bake," he says, nudging the plate toward her. "Help yourself-- they're dangerously good."

Julie doesn't need telling twice. She scarfs down the first brownie through an audible groan, the sugar doing wonders to quell the adrenaline she hadn't even realized had been coursing through her veins ever since she'd told the lie that had gotten her in trouble in the first place. She muffles a sheepish thanks through her second when Willie flops down next to her on the couch and hands her a water bottle, twisting the top off of his own bottle before taking a long swig.

Talking with Willie is as easy as breathing. He’s a comforting presence in the wayJulie often finds Flynn to be a comforting presence. In no time at all, she learns that he grew up in Venice Beach, and that he’s taking an extended gap year because he’s not quite sure college is for him yet. He regales her with stories of skating the up and down the boardwalk, skirting the uppity police officers who patrol the beaches on bikes, busting skaters for popping ollies and grinding railswhere they aren't supposed to. Julie talks about growing up out in the Valley, and about Carlos, her little brother who’s barely starting high school. She tells him about university life. About going to school, but not really being quite sure about her major even though, growing up, she’d always thought she knew what she wanted to study. She tells him that her dad doesn’t seem to mind much what she majors in as long as she's happy. He doesn’t ask her about what she thought she wanted to study before she changed her mind. He doesn’t ask her about what her mom thinks about her sudden disenchantment with higher education. Julie’s not quite sure why Willie doesn’t ask about her mother (she keeps waiting for him to) but she’s also grateful that she does’t have to figure out a way to skirt the issue. That for once, she doesn't have to be the girl who brings the mood down by revealing that her mother died two years ago.

“And that guy you were with— your blond friend— did I hear him mention you do music? Do you play any instruments?”

“No, I don’t play,” Julie says swiftly.

"Oh," Willie says gently. "My mistake then. It was pretty loud out there-- must've misheard."

It’s the easiest lie she’s told all night. Given how disastrously it had gone every other time she’d tried to lie in the past hour or so, Julie should really be counting her blessings that she'd finally figured out how to do so without raising suspicion. But the way it comes out so effortlessly makes something ugly twist in her gut. She’s never been a very good liar, but she hates the way that telling people she doesn’t play— that slowly omitting the “anything right now,” or the “but I used to,” from the end of the sentence— has become such a reflex. She hates that it’s the only thing she _can_ lie about. She hates the way it makes her think about whether it’s not so much the fact that it’s the only lie she can tell, but the fact that she can tell it with ease because it’s a lie that’s turned truth. Because the truth of the matter is, she hasn’t been able to play or sing a single note. Not since her mother died and took her passion for music right along with her to the great beyond. But now isn't the time to think about any of that, so Julie stuffs the hollow ache down as deep as it will go and focuses instead on Willie, who’s telling her about the day he and Alex met.

“I can’t believe you almost killed your future boyfriend,” Julie laughs as she takes another bite of brownie.

“A fact he loves to lord over my head to this day,” Willie adds.

It seems as if Willie’s gearing up to say something else, but the sound of a slew of new voices ringing out from beyond the greenroom door makes him pause.

“Sounds like the boys are on their way,” he says instead.

Julie smiles, feeling suddenly nervous about the prospect of meeting more people. But the curiosity weighs out in the end. She’s interested, at least, in meeting Alex, and maybe in thanking whichever friend he’d mentioned made the brownies she’d been enjoying. Their voices echo in the hallway, but Julie doesn’t need to strain her ear to hear whatever it is they’re saying. Despite the fact that the greenroom door had shut behind them after Willie had ushered her inside, it’s impossible not to hear the conversation as it bounces from one voice to another…

—

“Great set tonight boys,” Luke crows. “Reggie, you _killed_ that bass solo!”

“It _did_ feel like my fingers were flying across the strings!” Reggie says, the skip in his step growing more pronounced as he lets the compliment sink in.

“Dude, they were _totally_ flying across those strings!” Luke agrees, slinging an arm around the bassist’s shoulder. “And Alex!” He pulls the drummer in close with his free arm. The boy in question makes every attempt to swat Luke’s arm away when the sweat rag he’s still got gripped in his hand whips him on the chin. Not to be deterred, Luke simply tightens his grip until Alex grumbles and concedes. “You rocked it on the drums tonight, buddy!”

“Oh…well, yeah, I guess I did alright,” Alex replies bashfully. “But what about _you_? Shredding it on the guitar during the bridge of the last song we played?”

Luke extracts his arm from around the drummer’s neck and swats him playfully with the damp terrycloth rag in his hand.

“That is… _not_ sanitary…” Alex sighs loudly.

“ _Dude,_ ” Luke starts, effectively ignoring him. “How many times do we have to tell you you’re an _amazing_ drummer before it actually sinks in?"

“Yeah, Alex!” Reggie pipes in. “Can’t you just own your awesomeness for once? Come on, let us hear you say it. Let us hear you say, ‘I was _killing it_ on the drums tonight!’”

“Alright, alright _fine_ ,” Alex says through a playful roll of his eyes. “I was killing it on the drums tonight!”

“Yeah, you were!” Luke exclaims. “Did you both feel the energy of the crowd tonight? The connection was stronger than ever— best we’ve had in a minute! I don’t know what Andi was so worried about. We’re going to be just fine without the traitor who won’t be named.”

“Luke, he’s not Voldemort— you _can_ say his name, you know,” Reggie says.

“Yeah, well, as far as I’m concerned him _and_ his name are dead to me,” Luke grumbles. “Ugh! I don’t want to talk about _him_ anymore. Can’t we just go back to talking about the _amazing_ show we just played?”

“Sure, man,” Reggie shrugs. “You're right. I’m sure Andi and the label are going to be happy— maybe even happy enough to get off our backs a bit.”

“Yeah, but you know what Andi’s _not_ going to be happy about?” Alex says. “The fact that we played that new song she told us not to play.”

“Well, you know what they say…it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than it is to ask for permission.”

“Call me crazy, Reg, but I don’t think it _quite_ works that way— especially not when we already floated the idea to her about adding the song to tonight’s setlist,” Alex says. “Or did you forget the part where she said ‘ _no_ , absolutely _not_ ’?”

“I mean… _I_ didn’t forget— but it sure does seem like _Luke_ did,” Reggie says through a smirk.

“I didn’t _forget_ — made an _executive decision_!” Luke argues. “And you know what? It paid off in the end didn’t it? The crowd _loved_ it!”

“Yeah, okay, sure. We got lucky and it worked out,” Alex says tersely. “But are we, or are we _not_ going to talk about the fact that you _lied to us_?”

—

“ _I never lied to you!_ ” Julie hears someone exclaim incredulously from the other side of the door.

She jumps, startled when the door swings open and hits the adjacent wall, only to reveal the boy in the orange beanie. The one she’d asked to pretend to be in love with her for five minutes back at the bar. The one who’d said it wasn’t a good time, but had confused her all the more when he’d seemingly changed his mind and decided to help her out once he’d climbed up onto the stage and slung his guitar over his head.

“ _Yes you did!_ ” Say two other boys in unison.

They file into the greenroom right behind Orange Beanie. One of them Julie recognizes as the happy leather jacket guy from the bar. The other is a blond with a black snapback she hasn't seen up close before. Her eyes bounce from the three faces in turn as they carry on arguing by the door, clearly having missed the fact that they’re not alone in the room.

“What, because I said we were going to start with ‘Now or Never’ and then I switched it up last minute?”

“ _No_ — because you didn’t tell us what ‘Wicked Beauty’ is actually about.”

"Or should we say, _who_..." Leather Jacket says through a waggle of his eyebrows.

“What are you talking about? You two _know_ what it’s about! That’s why Andi didn’t want us to play it, remember? Because she thought it was a dumb concept that wouldn’t play well with the audience.”

“Yeah, when you told us all that you wrote the song about your _acoustic guitar!"_ says Snapback. "Why didn’t you just tell us it was about a girl?”

“Because it’s _not_!”

“Are you sure? Because that’s not what you said on stage tonight when you told _everyone_ it was for that girl at the bar.”

Julie flushes at the vague mention of herself, suddenly feeling as though maybe she shouldn’t be here listening to them duke it out.

“Should we maybe…I dunno…let them know we’re here or something?” She whispers at Willie. “Seems to be getting kind of…heated.”

“Nah, they argue like an old married throuple at least once every other week— nothing to worry about,” Willie shrugs from next to her. “There’s really no stopping them when they get like this. Better to just let them wear themselves out."

“When I said it was for her I didn’t mean it was _for her—“_

 _“_ That doesn’t even make sense, dude—“

“Yeah, man. I don’t get why you’re being so weird about this. I know you’ve never written a love song before but—“

“It’s _not_ a love song, Reg!—”

“— _BUT_ …would it even be that big of a deal if it were? The ladies dig a ballad, and the label’s been begging us to cut one for a while anyway. I bet you Andi would let us lay down the track for this one if you tell her it’s actually about a girl.”

“But it _isn't—_ how many times do I have to tell you knuckleheads that the only lady in my life is the six-string back at the apartment?”

Julie resists the urge to burst out laughing. The way Orange Beanie claims that he's more or less in a committed relationship to his instrument makes the declaration sound like a statement he repeats often. But it’s impossible for her to wrap her head around the idea that a guy who looks like _that_ , who also happens to be in a band that can clearly pack a room, goes home alone to an empty apartment with nothing but his guitar for company. She’s got no real way of knowing if he’s actually telling the truth, but she finds herself starting to side with his other two bandmates— especially when Leather Jacket starts quoting back lines from the song in question. They're intimate enough to sound as though they've been written about a partner, but just vague enough to keep a listener wondering.

“This is getting ridiculous,” she mutters to Willie when she realizes that the boys are now essentially just squabbling in circles.

Despite the commotion it had caused after, Julie can’t deny that the boy from the bar had essentially done what she’d asked him to. And suddenly, it seems to her like it’s only fair that she return the favor by clearing a few things up for his bandmates.

She clears her throat loudly as she stands from the couch, but it doesn’t seem to do the trick as far as making her presence known. She tries a polite, but poignant “ _excuse me,_ ” but when that doesn’t get their attention either, Julie makes the bold decision to hop up onto the low coffee table in front of the couch instead.

This time when she calls for their attention, three pairs of eyes swivel in her direction.

“Sorry to interrupt, it’s just that it sort of seemed to me like you three weren’t really getting anywhere with all the back and forth?” Julie says, suddenly feeling a bit ridiculous about climbing up on the table. Never the less, she stands her ground and presses on. “I thought maybe I could clear a few things up since your friend over here isn’t doing a very good job.”

“ _Oh my god_ , Alex, _look_!” Exclaims Leather Jacket as he points excitedly up at her. “It’s Wicked Beauty!”

“Yeah, Reggie— I can see that,” says the blond boy next to him.

“Wait, you’re Alex?” Julie asks, momentarily distracted from the task at hand. Alex looks bemused over the fact that she’d just singled him out, but nods anyway. “Oh my god!" Julie says excitedly. "Wille’s told me so much about you already. It’s really nice to finally put a face to the name.”

“Wait, you’re a friend of Willie’s?” Alex asks, before rounding on his friend. “You’re dating one of my boyfriends’ friends and you never thought to tell us?”

“We’re _not_ dating,” Julie says at the same time as Orange Beanie.

“But…he called you his girl,” Reggie says.

“I know,” Julie nods. “I guess I sort of asked for that in a round about way, didn’t I?— But I didn’t expect you to get up on stage and announce it to the whole room,” she adds, her eyes sliding over to lock with that of the guitarist’s.

“Maybe not the best plan I’ve ever had,” he concedes, a small smile playing across his lips that makes the one on her own face grow into a toothy grin. “But it worked, didn’t it? At least…I hope it did?”

“It did,” Julie affirms.

“Good,” he says through a laugh. Her breath catches in her throat when he takes a step toward her, stopping only when he’s standing right in front of her. “Sorry I couldn’t stay long enough to get your name.”

“It’s Julie,” she supplies, looking down at him.

“Julie…” he repeats it back to himself in a soft tone, as though testing out the way it sounds. “I’m Luke, by the way. You've already sort of met Alex I guess. And that's Reggie."

Luke rolls his eyes goodnaturedly at Reggie's exuberant wave as he takes a step back from Julie and holds a hand out in her direction. She’s not high enough off the ground to merit assistance, but she takes it anyway and lets him help her off the table 

“It’s nice to meet you, Luke,” she says, once both feet are firmly on the ground. Distantly, Julie thinks she should probably let go of his hand, but Luke's making no move to let go, so she lets hers linger in his for a beat longer. She finally lets her hand slide away from his when Reggie chimes in with a comment that pulls her out of her temporary daze.

“ _Dude_ , you didn’t even get her _name_? _Real classy_. Have I taught you nothing?”

“To be fair, I didn’t exactly give it to him,” Julie reasons.

“That’s cool— your body, your choice, right guys?” Reggie says, looking to his other two cohorts for backup.

“That’s… _okay,_ ” Alex sighs, shaking his head in Reggie’s direction, before turning toward Julie. “I’m sorry about him— he tried to fix an amp in the rain once, and he’s just never been the same since.”

“True story!” Reggie says shamelessly.

Julie giggles over their easy banter, feeling more assured over the fact that it’s the correct response when she sees some of the tension in Alex’s shoulders ease up.

“So…” Alex starts. “How _did_ you two meet anyway?”

“Well,” Julie starts, her eyes finding Luke’s. “It’s kind of a funny story…”

The boys are an attentive audience as Julie regales them with the story of her night. It’s mostly quiet as she speaks save for a few short bursts of commentary from Reggie, who “oohs,” “aahs,” and even, at one point, makes a noise of disgust when Julie goes off on a mini tangent about Carrie.

(“Ugh! I don’t even know her and I already don’t like her!” He proclaims.

“Thanks for the solidarity,” Julie says without skipping a beat.)

“And then Willie brought me here to hide out from Pitchfork lady and Stereogum dude,” Julie concludes. “Any questions?”

"No, but I just…” Reggie starts, rounding on Luke. “I just can’t believe you had us sing a song about your guitar tonight, but you won’t even pretend to humor me when I tell you that I want to write a song about how home is wherever my horse is.”

“He shreads on the banjo,” says Willie when Julie looks on in confusion.

“Ah,” she replies, as though she totally understands how that one particular fact is supposed to explain everything.

Julie’s phone goes off before she's able to ask for a bit more clarification about how banjos and horses have anything to do with the conversation at hand. The telltale sound of Flynn’s designated ringtone blaring out from her purse is enough to have her hastily digging around in the crossbody bag she’d worn out over her purple dress.

“Sorry— I gotta get this,” she says, excusing herself as she picks up the call and walks swiftly over to the corner of the room. “Hey disappointment,” Julie says in greeting. “Everything going alright?”

“I mean, it was nothing to write home about but I’m not mad about coming out,” Flynn says easily. “Really, I just called to let you know that we just said goodnight, so I should be home in about 20 minutes.”

“Oh! Are you still at the bar?”

“Yeah. I’m out front, but I’m about to call an Uber.”

“Can you wait like, five minutes so I can hitch a ride back with you?” Julie asks, biting her lip. “I’m actually still here too—“

“You’re _still_ at the bar?” Flynn interrupts.

“Yeah…kinda,” Julie says. She chances a glance back at the four boys who do a terrible job of feigning aloofness and pretending as though they weren’t all listening to the half of the conversation they could actually hear. “Long story— but I’ll explain when I see you.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” Flynn says. “See you soon, underachiever!”

“So, that was my friend who I came here with tonight,” Julie says when she hangs up. “She’s calling an Uber to take us home, so I better get going before I miss my ride.”

“Want one of us to walk you out?” Willie asks readily.

“No, but thank you though— you’ve done so much for me already,” she says, smiling warmly at him. She turns to address the other three. “Thank you, for letting me hide out here— well, for everything.”

Her eyes find Luke’s on the last word.

“Yeah,” he whispers as he holds her gaze. “Any time.”

Julie turns toward them when she reaches the door, offering Willie and the band one final smile before she makes her way back down the hall and toward the thick black curtain she’d come through. There are still a few stragglers left behind nursing drinks at the bar, but the venue has more or less cleared out since the last time Julie had found herself trying to push through the throng of people.

She’s barely stepped back out into the crisp night air when she hears someone burst through the door behind her.

“Julie!”

It’s impossible to hide her surprise when she turns to find Luke standing right behind her, her eyes searching his own, wondering why it is he’d chased after her.

“Did I forget something back there?” She asks in confusion.

“No, sorry, It’s just…” he starts, pausing before he shoves a white bundle of cloth toward her. “Reggie, he uh…wanted you to have that.”

Julie shakes out the soft material and holds it up to get a better look at the black logo screen printed across the front.

“Sunset Curve?” She reads out.

“Yeah!” Luke says, bouncing a bit on his heels. “That’s us. He uh…he told me to tell you it’s size beautiful? His words not mine-- I promise. _God_ , I can't believe I just said that," Luke rambles. “But you know, just in case we ever see you again, I don’t want him to ask and find out I didn’t tell you, so—“

“It’s fine,” she laughs, putting Luke out of his misery. “Tell him thanks from me.”

“Yeah, I will,” he trails off.

She keeps waiting for Luke to say goodbye and slink back into the venue, but he doesn't. Julie can hardly stomach the thick silence that settles over them when all he does is stand there, staring at her.

“Anything else?” She prompts gently.

“Nope, that’s pretty much it,” he says, running the fingers of his right hand through the hair that’s poking out from the back of his beanie.

“ _Well..._ I guess this is goodbye then,” Julie says, kicking herself mentally for how awkward the words sound coming out of her mouth.

“Actually— there’s one more thing!” Luke blurts out. “I— _we_ — the band, I mean, also wanted you to have this.”

He pulls a jeweled case out of his back pocket and hands that over to to her as well.

“I know everyone streams music these days,” he starts as she inspects the front cover. It features the same logo as the one that's on the shirt, only the band's name is embossed in white and set against a black backdrop instead. “Call me old fashioned, but there’s just something magical about being able to feel a physical copy of an album. It's stupid, I know."

“No, it's not-- I get it,” Julie says, chancing a glance up at him. “It’s like music you can hold in the palm of your hands.”

“Yeah,” Luke says, gracing her with that same soft smile from before. “Well, maybe if you dig the sound, we’ll see you next time we’re playing in LA.”

“Live music’s not really my thing,” Juile says apologetically. “But you never know, maybe we’ll see each other again someday.”

Luke looks like there’s something more he wants to say but then Julie hears Flynn calling out her name. When she glanced around Luke’s shoulder, she spies her best friend, who’s waving her down from next to a car that’s pulled over a ways down the sidewalk.

“That’s my ride,” Juile says apologetically. “I really have to go, but thanks, Luke— for everything.”

And Julie’s not sure why she does it, but on impulse, she rises up on her tiptoes and drops a kiss on his cheek. She does’t look back as she hurries past him, hustling over to a waiting Flynn, who eyes her curiously as she gestures for Julie to slide into the Uber first.

“Julie Molina, you have got some _explaining to do_ ,” Flynn says as she shuts the car door behind her. “Start from the beginning— and don’t you _dare_ leave anything out!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope nobody gets lured into false pretenses by my uploading this next chapter one week after my last. I am notoriously bad at sticking to an actual update schedule (because writing is a fickle creature) so I appreciate everyone's patience as we take this fake dating au journey together!
> 
> Thank you so much to all of you who have had such nice things to say about how this story's starting out so far-- I really hope you enjoy chapter 3 as much as you have the previous two. And if you did, please let me know in the comments below! It seems kind of silly, but hearing about what readers liked really is such a great motivator-- especially when the writer's block starts to kick in! 
> 
> Shout out to my Angry Flower Squad (you know who you are)-- we've been doing writing sprints for the past few weeks and honestly, if you're going to thank anyone for the quick turn around on this chapter, it should really be them because I've definitely been feeding off of their chaotic writing energy! 
> 
> See y'all when I see you for the next chapter!
> 
> In between updates, you can come and hang out with me over on [Tumblr](https://xxprettylittletimebombxx.tumblr.com/) and/or on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElaWithAnE)!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back on my Juke bullshit-- are we surprised? I know I'm not because I have absolutely zero self-control, and this idea just hit me like a freight train, and I couldn't _not_ write it so here we are.
> 
> I have a plan for this fic, but I still don't know how long it's going to be-- I'm sort of treating this like my long-term JATP fanfic project? So in the spirit of that, I hope ya'll will come along for the ride because I'm really excited about this story and about some of the things I've got planned for it so I hope you are too after this first chapter!
> 
> As always, comments and/or kudos are very much appreciated! And thank you so much to all of you who've left those on my previous two one-shots. The positive feedback has definitely given me the courage to try my hand at writing something longer for this fandom/ship. <3
> 
> See y'all when I see you for chapter 2!
> 
> In between updates, you can find me over on [Tumblr](https://xxprettylittletimebombxx.tumblr.com/) and/or on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElaWithAnE)


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